Episode One

Vigilante Vendetta Arc

In a dark NYC alleyway at midnight, a mugger holds a young lady at gunpoint. Unaware people walk by, as the mugger corners her deeper into the alleyway.

Mugger: Give the money up, lady, don't make me have to blow off your damn head.

Lady: Please, please! I'm broke!

Mugger: Okay then.

He pointed the gun at her head. Before he could pull the trigger, the gun was shot out of his hand. Holding his hand, he turned and saw something unusual.

Mugger: ?

A guy in an all-black tactical suit, tactical boots, gloves, and tactical mask was reloading his gun. The guy also had a utility belt with holsters for two pistols, and the thing even had a nightstick attached to it. His mask had blue lenses that shined bright in the moonlight, and he pointed his gun directly at the mugger.

Vigilante: Hands up. Now.

Mugger: Now what the hell...?

The vigilante kept his gun trained on the mugger. The mugger didn't make any sudden moves, but he leaned slightly toward his weapon on the ground.

Without further warning:

The vigilante threw his nightstick at the mugger with ease. It hit him square in the temple. When the mugger reared back in pain, the vigilante back-kicked him into one of the alleyway's walls. He then took handcuffs out of his utility belt and cuffed the disoriented man. He pulled out an extra cuff and cuffed the man's feet as well. When he looked at the woman, she was looking back at him in fear, hoping he wouldn't harm her.

Lady: Hi?

Vigilante: Uh..hi?

Lady: Are you a cop?

Vigilante: Nah, my name is Riot. Sorry about the guy over there. He'll be in jail soon.

With that, the Riot returned the way he came, got on his motorcycle when he was sure she wasn't looking, and drove away into the night. The lady was stunned, but she saw the mugger in handcuffs and in pain and kicked him in the jaw for his attempt at robbing and killing her.

Mugger: Ow, mother—

Lady: That's what you get, you son of a—-

The cops came and rushed into the alleyway. They saw the mugger handcuffed and the scared young woman and had lots of questions, but the lady informed them the mugger attempted to rob and kill her. One of the cops, Officer Ricardo Jenkins, came out of his car and recognized the young lady immediately, pulling her into a hug.

Officer Ricardo: Cassie? Are you okay?

Cassie: Yeah, I'm fine, I—-

Officer Ricardo: Clearly not! If I didn't get that 911 call, you would have been—-

Cassie: I would have been fine! Look at him; he's already been dealt with.

Officer Ricardo looked at the mugger, who was coughing blood. He looked unreadable as he turned back to his daughter, who was nervously trembling.

Officer Ricardo: There's no way you did this, is there?

Cassie shook her head.

Cassie: Well, I, um, some dude just—-

Officer Ricardo: Some dude?

Cassie explained to him about the vigilante and how he stopped the mugger. She even told him the name he referred to himself as Riot.

Officer Ricardo: You sure you didn't have too much to drink, sweetheart? This is the real world, not a—-

Cassie: I saw him!

Ricardo: You sure it wasn't some cop that couldn't be bothered to take him to jail?

Cassie: DAD! What cop wears a mask? Like, be for real!

Officer Ricardo didn't know what else to say, but he was sure one thing was possible. There wasn't any real-life Batman, Spider-Man, or any of that. All life had was the law and those to uphold said law. If this person did exist, he would have to be arrested for taking the law into his own hands. Unless he really was a cop, and his daughter was just drunk again.

Ricardo: Look, I'm just glad you're okay.

He pulled her into another hug.

The other officers took the guy away. Officer Ricardo gave his terrified daughter a ride back home and told her she wasn't allowed to roam past midnight anymore, to her chagrin. His concern for her was evident, and so was his worry that her story about the "vigilante" was true.

Meanwhile, Riot was returning home, transitioning back to his other life, 18-year-old Demetrius Anderson, high school senior and aspiring detective. He went into the alleyway behind his apartment complex, opened the backpack he left there, took off his vigilante suit, and put on his trademark black jacket, jeans, and Jordans. He grabbed the bag, left his motorcycle in the back, and went into the apartment, preparing to head up to his parent's condo. He walked past the doorman, Mr. Joe. On his way to the apartment elevator, he greeted the receptionist, Mr. Derrick.

Mr. Derrick: Hey, kid, glad you made it back safe. You ain't supposed to be out late like this.

Demetrius: Sorry, I just went to the store. I got thirsty.

Mr. Derrick: Right. Well, you should head up before your folks return.

Demetrius waved him off and entered the elevator, using the access code "4563". He had no worries about being caught by his parents; they usually spent most of their time doing work affairs or personal activities. The place would be empty until around 1 a.m., and it was 12:30 a.m.

He took out his key from his bag and unlocked the door. The place smelled fresh as always because his parents loved the finer things. He went upstairs to his room, set his backpack on his bed, and realized that he had to go to school in the morning.

Demetrius: Oh boy.

He walked over to his desk and looked over some science notes. He had to handle science, math, AND history homework.

He decided to get to work.

Meanwhile, in a police car at a gas station:

The mugger from earlier was sitting in the back of the car. The cops driving him, Officer Maria Daniels and Officer Troy Hubert, had stopped to get some gas.

Mugger: So y'all bozos ain't gonna buy me no—-

He immediately stopped when he saw who was outside the window. That was no cop. It was a guy in a ski mask and a black hood, and the mugger immediately scooted back in his seat.

Guy: Henry Brown, YOU have failed us.

Henry: Wait, wait, tell the boss give me one more chance! I didn't mean to—-

Before Henry could say another word, the man shot him dead in the forehead, right through the window. When the noise got the attention of the officers, the man was already gone, and all that was left was a dead body and a note on the driver-side car door. The note read:

Dear officers, fear not, for YOU are next.

END OF CHAPTER ONE.

Chapter Two

Demetrius was busy trying to do AP Calculus, AP Physics, and AP History before class in the morning. Being Riot and being Demetrius wouldn't be easy. It was usually one or the other.

He had trouble focusing at times; his mind wandered from time to time to his "other" interests. Thankfully, he had a keen intellect, allowing him to keep his high grades in school. While finishing his math homework, he decided to take a break and turn on the TV. He liked studying crimes on the news. It helped him learn more about detectives.

Demetrius: Wait, what?

When he turned on the TV, the first thing the news reported was:

"Street Mugger Shot Dead In Back Of Police Car; Police Receive Warning Letter"

Demetrius: Wait, that's the guy I stopped...

Demetrius did talk to himself at times. By "times," it was a lot. He had few friends, and most of his family lived in other states or countries. And his mother and father were always out. He was the only one he could really count on. But this news report did surprise him. Did the mugger have enemies? Did he owe money? Did someone want him killed for failing them?

Demetrius decided that all these theories could wait. If he had the time, he could secretly investigate tomorrow. Work needed to be done, and school time was fast approaching. He spent the next 3 hours working on his homework. As soon as it was done, he fell asleep.

THE NEXT DAY

Demetrius woke up bright and early to his alarm. He took a shower, got dressed, grabbed his backpack, and walked out his door. His father, Darius, was busy on a phone call with his "business" partner, Peter, and his mother, Tiara, was cooking breakfast before her business meeting. She owned a tech company called E-Tech. They sold phones and other devices such as computers and watches. The pair greeted their son when he left his room.

Darius: Hey, son. Ready for school?

Tiara: Of course, he's not. He hasn't eaten yet! Come here, honey, come eat.

Demetrius ate his mother's special cooking: waffles with eggs and bacon. She even gave him orange juice to go with the meal. She had ensured he was healthy since that "day" years ago. Once Demetrius was done, he left home and took the bus to Stuy High School. When he arrived, he ate breakfast and went to his first class, AP Calculus. His teacher, Mr. Turner, was busy grading last week's tests. When he saw Demetrius, he smiled.

Mr. Turner: Hello, Demetrius. Glad you made it on time today! Do you have your homework?

Damn right, he did. He sacrificed 4 hours of sleep just to get it in. The fatigue wasn't so bad due to his conditioning, but he would soon tire without rest.

Demetrius: Yep. Here you go.

He gave the homework to Mr. Turner. Mr Turner looked it over with approval.

Mr. Turner: Not bad! You got 97% on this!

Hah. Demetrius wasn't really interested in the grade. What he cared about was the murder of the mugger he stopped. Crime-solving was his most loved hobby. It was half the reason he became a "vigilante," and the other half, well...

He hadn't even been Riot for long. Yesterday was his first actual day in the field.

The class began, and all the students quieted down. Mr. Turner had started passing out last week's end-of-quarter exams. They were taken at the end of the first quarter.

Demetrius, to no surprise of his, got a 95% on the test. A few of the questions he missed were simple mistakes. Ah well.

Some kids got B's, some got C's, a few scored A's, like Demetrius, and some stupid, or maybe just "bad," kids got F's.

Mr. Turner finished passing out the tests, and then he went to the front to make an announcement.

Mr. Turner: Now, class, I'll remind you. If you received an F, I will call your parents, as there should be no reason you should be getting F's.

Some of the students got nervous at this. The school's football captain, Bryant Spencer, got an F, and while he was popular, he lacked either smarts or the drive to be smart. All football players were like that. Famous, attractive, but utterly stupid. And they liked to be bullies. Demetrius wished one would try him; he'd put a bullet in their damn knee.

Bryant: Wait! My mom will mess me UP if she knows I got an F!

Mr. Turner: I'm sorry, Mr. Spencer, I told you to study multiple times.

He didn't. He was always busy flexing his muscles and picking on poor kids. Demetrius never got picked on because he was A. Rich, B. He looked scary, and C. People assumed what happened years ago had something to do with HIM.

The class ended with a lecture on grades and a simple video into the next curriculum, and Demetrius moved through his next classes with ease:

- Period 2: AP History with Dr. Patricia Rodriguez

- Period 3: AP Physics with Professor James Mitchell

- Period 4: English Literature with Mrs. Elizabeth Walker

- Period 5: Spanish with Señora Maria Garcia

- Period 6: Physical Education with Coach David Williams

- Period 7: Art with Ms. Sarah Roberts

They all didn't have anything of note happen. Typical popular kids, typical smart (ass) kids, typical quiet kids, and yours truly, Demetrius Anderson.

Bryant bumped into him after 7th period, when Demetrius was leaving campus.

Bryant: Yo, bro, I need your help. If I don't pass Calc' this quarter, it will be my ass. You're smart, right?

Demetrius wasn't really interested in helping him, but at the end of the day, maybe helping the football captain would lead to some benefits. That's when he saw her.

Girl: Hey, Bryant, we still down to hang tonight?

Some beautiful African-American girl in fancy clothes and shoes walked over to Bryant in a teasing manner. She put an arm around him and snuggled into his chest. Demetrius found the snuggling cringe, but the girl seemed pretty cute.

Bryant: Uh, look, Diamond I gotta—-

Diamond: You gotta what? You promised me, remember?

Demetrius was ready to take a hike, but the girl looked at him, narrowed her eyes, and spoke.

Diamond: And who is he, your new friend?

She gave him a wink. Darn it, he knew he'd been spotted.

Demetrius: Uh, I barely know—-

Bryant: Yeah, yeah! He's my homie, Demetrius. We cool, like, for real.

Demetrius literally barely knew the guy. The only reason they knew each other's names was because they shared four classes. He was sure Bryant was failing them all.

Diamond looked him up and down.

Diamond: Eh, not bad. Nice to meet you, Demetrius. I'm Diamond.

Demetrius didn't like the way she said his name. That tone wouldn't work.

Demetrius: Nice to meet you...Diamond?

They awkwardly shook hands. Demetrius turned to leave again.

Bryant: Yo bro, you should totally come to my lit-ass party on Friday night! It's gonna be awesome!

Diamond: Yeah, Demetrius, you should definitely come.

He really didn't want to. He was sure Bryant was sucking up to him to try and convince him to help with his homework. But he didn't want to argue with a popular football star and what "seemed" to be his girlfriend.

Demetrius: Uh...okay.

Little did he know, his dual life as Riot AND Demetrius was about to get more complicated.

END OF CHAPTER TWO.

Chapter Three

After the school day, Demetrius took the bus back home. He wasn't sure if he would really attend Bryant's party. And that girl he was with...

Making it back to his trademark condo, the teen prepared to do more homework. Today, he had five classes to do: Physics, English, Spanish, Art, and Calculus. His history teacher just made them watch a video on WW2 and PE, well...all he did was hoop. He worked on Physics first, a complex task. After that, he worked on Calculus and tried his hand at Art. He moved to the two language classes last.

Meanwhile, at a nice house in Lower Manhattan...

Bryant was busy at home being yelled at by his mom, Amanda. She was...well:

Amanda: You failed AGAIN? Is all you give a damn about football?

Bryant: No! Well yeah, but this work is hard Ma!

Amanda: So if you study rather than screwing around, it wouldn't be so hard. But no, you wanna be the cool kid.

This went on for hours. Eventually, Amanda decided to ground Bryant to teach him a lesson.

Bryant: I'm grounded? No, no...no!

Amanda: Yes, you're grounded for three weeks, young man.

Bryant: Three weeks?!? Ma, I got stuff to do! I got a party, and this cool girl is invited and—-

Amanda: I don't give a damn about your party, you are gonna fix those grades.

Bryant: Nah, screw this!

He went up to his room and slammed the door.

Amanda: Now four weeks, since you're so grown!

Bryant didn't want to deal with this. It was stupid. He had a hot chick ready to slide to his house, a "nerd?" that he could use for his grades, and the whole football team ready to come get lit, and this lady decided to "ground" him. He found it very:

Bryant: Screw her, this dumbass stuff is so unfair.

He plopped on his bed and laid down. He prepared to cancel his party plans, but he saw Diamond's Instagram page. She posted that she was ready to party this weekend, and 650 people saw it. There was no way he could give up his party and disappoint her.

He decided to hold his party at someone else's house. He needed to make a decision quickly because preparations needed to be made. Food, drinks, and activities all needed to be taken care of. Plus, the teens would drink alcohol, even if they were underage, so there would be that, too. He started DM'ing lots of his friends on Insta. He texted Robert, Eddy, and even "Uncle Curtis," but they all told him their parents would kill him and them if he hosted a party at their houses.

Bryant: Lame.

There was one kid who was rumored to be rich enough to have a solid house for a party. But everyone usually avoided that kid out of school because he was seen as a bit weird...and scary. Even bullies knew not to test him; they feared he would come to their houses.

But Bryant was desperate to impress Diamond, so he had to try.

THE NEXT DAY.

Bryant got up for school bright and early, mostly because he didn't want to deal with his mom's mouth. Catching the bus and getting lots of waves, he sat in the back with his friend Robert.

Robert: So about ya party...

Bryant: There's a kid I "think" could help us out.

Robert: Who?

Bryant: I'll show you.

They got to school and went into the cafeteria. Bryant looked for him and, sure enough, found him relaxing in the left corner, at a table all by himself.

Bryant: Yo, Demetrius!

Demetrius looked back at him with an almost bored look, like he didn't even care to be around Bryant, despite his status.

Demetrius: Yes?

Bryant prepared to speak, but Robert pulled him away and whispered in his ear.

Robert: THIS is the kid you were talking about? Dude, no one knows him! Plus, he's weird!

Bryant: Look, man, to impress the females, we gotta do desperate things. I don't know about you, but I got one I'm tryna get connected with, so...

Robert: I don't know, man, this seems like a very bad idea...

Bryant: All my ideas are, but I ain't got no other choice, so let's party at the kid's crib.

Robert: Ugh.

They went back to Demetrius to ask permission for the favor. He was on his phone now, watching the news, and he didn't even look up when they returned.

Demetrius: So, what do y'all want?

Bryant: We need a new place for the party.

Demetrius: Cool, how about at Central Park?

Bryant slapped his head. Robert just kept watching, eyes narrowing on Demetrius.

Bryant: Nah, man, we can't have the ladies getting bit by mosquitoes and getting pissed off at me.

Demetrius: Let me guess, you want to use my house for your little party.

Bryant: Uh, yeah! You got a solid crib, right?

Demetrius: Yeah, but not for random ass teens.

Bryant: They ain't random; they some of the most popular kids in the city! It's gon' be lit!

Demetrius: Yeah, yeah.

Bryant: Sooo, what do you say?

Demetrius thought for a moment. If they came, they might mess things up and bring back bad memories of the last time he had a party. And if they didn't come, everything would be fine. Plus, he had homework to do, and a mysterious murder case he wanted to check out, so....

Demetrius: How long are you going to be there?

Bryant: Should only be a few hours. I've already made plans for the invites and other stuff.

If they messed stuff up, he always had a gun. Plus, he had a room to block out their noise. And the maids would clean up the house. He decided he might as well let the random kids dance around for a bit. It would be the perfect chance to see what was up with that "girl." She made Demetrius feel...well...

Demetrius: You guys have 3 hours to have your party.

Bryant: Let's go! Preciate the favor, bro.

Robert: Yeah...thanks!

They walked off. Robert pulled Bryant to him.

Robert: Bro, you sure he won't kill us all as soon as we step in that house?

Bryant: Well, no, but we need a party, and you lames ain't providing so...

They walked off.

Meanwhile, at the police station:

The captain of the NYPD, Thomas Fitzroy, was examining the circumstances of Henry Brown's death. He was shot in the head with a 9mm bullet, close range, dead instantly. Pistol had to be semi-automatic, or the guy was an expert marksman with fully-automatics. The motive for the murder of Henry was unclear to the police, but they presumed he was a liability. In contrast, whoever sent the note left a clear message: they wanted the police dead.

Thomas gathered his fellow officers.

Thomas: Alright, boys, let's take a look at this case and try and find out what's really going on in town.

END OF CHAPTER THREE.